


The Jones Family

by Chucychito, FrickinGwaine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred isn't ready to be a dad, Angst disguised as fluff, Family Feels, Fluff, Historical References, Mentioned background characters, Personified Regions, Possible historical inaccuracy, Regions are stereotyped, Siblings, States fic, United States, but with a twist, just a little, not chronological, not meant to be offensive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chucychito/pseuds/Chucychito, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrickinGwaine/pseuds/FrickinGwaine
Summary: Alfred looked at him in horror. "What do you mean fifty?""Well you have fifty states right? So, fifty kids?"At this point Alfred was imagining the worst of scenarios. "Who the Hell can manage FIFTY CHILDREN?!"(in which instead of states, America has regions. Plus a few others).





	1. House Rules

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is a set of rules and guidelines to get the story up and running and to introduce the characters. This will continue further :)
> 
> (In advance, we do not mean to offend by stereotypes. We tried researching to the best of our abilities what each region would be like. Sorry for any mistakes.)

**The Jones’ Family House Rules:**

 

  * No seceding from the nation to start a civil war (no matter how annoying you find your siblings)


      * Passive-aggressive means to get revenge on said siblings will stop when Alfred says enough (the record of his patience is 3 days after which Northeast and South got into major trouble (both agree that it was worth it))


  * Alfred gets the final say in an argument (Because he’s America and he said so)


      * America maybe a democracy but Alfred will run a dictatorship if you keep testing him


  * Because this actually needs to be put in writing -- no threatening to shoot your siblings


      * Ya know what, no guns in the kitchen or the dining room


      * Or the family room


      * Or the bathroom (what the Hell, South?)


      * Jesus christ, I better not see a gun in general unless I give **explicit permission**


        * ...permission given at 2 AM after waking me in the middle of the night to ask does _not_ count


  * No political talk at dinner


  * No trying to convert your new found sibling (because Midwest will cry, girls)


  * No making fun of other regions in a different language (I speak all of them enough to know an insult when I hear one)


      * Swearing in another language still counts as swearing


  * West goes nowhere without supervision of some kind


  * West and Midwest are never to be left alone for long periods of time


  * No weed in the house


      * Nothing illegal in the house (do I really need to clarify this, guys?)


  * No playing soccer with Puerto Rico, especially not in the house (why do you guys keep trying to destroy where we _live_?)


  * Midwest, Northeast, and Alaska are not allowed to make fun of/prank South and Hawaii about snow and winter


  * No bullying West (he can’t help it)


      * No bullying Puerto Rico (he’s apart of the family now)


      * No bullying _anyone_


  * No firebreathing at dinner


    * __No fire breathing in the house (Hawaii_ no _)__


  * Midwest’s home is America, not Canada (this falls under the bullying rule too, kiddos)


    * Alaska’s home is also in America, not Canada!!


  * Midwest and Northeast are not allowed to celebrate Black Friday


  * Guam is still apart of the family and we cannot shun him for not living with us


  * Alcohol is forbidden


  * No trying to sue Alfred for these rules


  * For the love of God, Do NOT make fun of touchy subjects (country music, Northeast’s driving, Puerto Rico’s Status, Southern politics, the entirety of the Midwest, etc)


  * Unless you’re South, no cooking without adult supervision (West, no cooking at all)


  * West for the last time, the moon landing was real and Bush did not do 9/11 (stop bringing it up or I will send you to the moon myself without the rocket)


    * Stop asking Alfred about chem trails, West


  * Hawaii isn’t allowed to ~~throw~~ use ~~breakable~~ objects to intentionally cause ~~West~~ _anyone_ harm


  * Alfred is not allowed to pick favorites, even when it was a joke because it’s “not funny” (I promise I love you all equally...most of the time)



  
  


**Trixie Jones** (Southern region of the United States)

**Amy Jones** (Northeast region of the United States)

West Jones (Western region of the United States)

Wyatt Jones (Midwest region of the United States)

 _Pablo Carriedo-Jones_ (the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico)

Kaya Braginski-Jones (US state Alaska)

Marcelina Mele Jones ( US state Hawaii)


	2. North and South Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back it was simple once. Him against England. Alfred should have known that eventually his people would have become...less unified. Whether Union or Confederacy, he supposes he should be lucky that both are still Of AMERICA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FG: okay so this chapter was authored by my and saved by Chucychito.  
> Me being me means that I write confusing things sometimes. All explanations are at the end or just ask a question and I will address it.  
> The next chapter is “seasonal” *winky face*  
> Warning- there is *one* swear.

     Alfred was starting to regret a lot of decisions. His head had been killing him since March. Politics may not have been his favorite thing, but they sure as Hell shouldn’t have caused the pain he was currently in. Good news-- he got a new boss who seemed like he knew what he was doing. Bad news-- the second since Lincoln’s inauguration the faint tension Alfred had been feeling erupted into a full-blown I-want-to-die-after-I-throw-up-real-quick migraine. Every thought he had was immediately pushed aside and lost; every opinion he wanted to share he couldn’t because he didn’t even know if that's really what he felt. It’d only been days since the shift in government and  _ it hadn’t stopped _ . 

     Alfred had since locked himself in his house, waiting until he could at least decide where to go if and when he got off the dang floor. Every time Alfred got up, he felt unsure why he wanted to do so in the first place, and immediately sat back down. 

     Maybe if he could just sleep it would  _ stop _ . With this single thought anchoring him, Alfred made his way to the bedroom and somehow managed to land on his bed. As he curled into a fetal position, hands in his hair as he clutched his head, Alfred wasn’t really surprised that relief still evaded him. Fortunately enough for him, after several more hours of misery, he finally fell into a restless sleep.

     The next morning, Alfred felt fine. Looking back, perhaps he should have questioned it more. Instead he just burrowed back into his blankets and took comfort while he can.

* * *

 

April 12, 1861 - Too early in the morning

The sound of a gunshot echoing in his ear and a crash reverberating in the air woke him up. He gasped and tried to reorient himself. It was then that Alfred realized that the gunshot wasn’t real-- at least, not here. The crash however, was distinctly the sound of a 10 year old half-filled China cabinet hitting wooden floors at the precise angle that would allow only a single tea cup that had never been used to be spared. He knew the sound intimately because he’d tipped over several of Arthur’s cabinets on “accident” when he was a kid.

     The soft sound of padded feet broke Alfred out of his fond reminiscing when he realized something. Quickly, he jumped out of bed and put on a loose robe to run out of his room towards the source of the crash. Going down the hallway, Alfred skidded to a stop, almost missing the doorway that opened up to the dining room. As he set his first glance into the room, he kind of wished he kept going.   
  


     It was not just the cabinet that was the only casualty. The table was put on its side and used as the front for an improvised fort. Where there were originally six wooden chairs, only two were still intact. Another pair was used as barricades for the fort while the last set was disassembled into what looked like rudimentary weapons. And the cause of this disaster? Two small girls who Alfred would claim were absolutely adorable if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t know how they got into his house. 

    “Stop attacking me!” came a whine from inside the fort.

     The girl making the weapons threw a half-finished sling shot at it. “Only if you go away!”

     Whether is was understandable shock or irrational fear that made Alfred freeze in the doorway, he didn’t know. As he took in the scene (a mostly destroyed room with one strange child pelting the weak defense of another stray child with a pile of wooden pieces from destroyed chairs), he was filled with a sense of apprehension. Before Alfred could think of a diplomatic way to enter the fray, a wayward projectile grazes past him, pushing him to action.

     “Hey, what the Hell? Knock it off,” he said and finally moved forward into the room. The girls turned to look at him, the one in the fort poking her head out in order to lean forward and the second standing up from spot she was sitting. Both used the opportunity to start talking.

     “America, I was here just minding my own business-”

     “America, please tell Union that she needs to-”

     “Hey I was talking to him first, South!”

     “Call me by my real name, it’s -”

     “LIES! You are apart of this country and -”

     “Don’t interrupt me, stop being rude I-”

     “Oh  _ I’m _ the one-”

     Watching them, the headache that had just blessedly left him returned in full force, giving Alfred the faint urge to cry. Particular phrases the kids said were also raising several red flags. 

     “Enough! Both of you, come here.” The girls stop arguing for a moment to move and stand in front of him. He took this time to get a full look at them. Both looked to be around 6 or 7, but that was about it in terms of similarities.

     The one on his left that was previously in the fort had dirty blonde hair tied in a low ponytail with rather unkempt eyebrows (however they could never compare to Arthur’s) above steel gray eyes. Her nose appeared to be crooked, as though she had been in a tussle. Faint dirt marks were scattered across on her face and clothes. She donned a simple and practical but surprisingly masculine outfit of brown trousers with a matching jacket over a blue shirt. Despite her appearance, the material was good quality and her posture was straight, almost as though she took pride in it.  _ North, _ the name came to mind.

     The girl on his right, however, was her pure opposite. Brown hair was settled in neat braids that went past her shoulders. As she squinted her brown eyes at Alfred, he was reminded particularly of coffee-- usually warm, but appeared to hold a level of bitterness. A light dusting of freckles brushed across her nose, completing the picture of a young lass; an idea that was further assisted by her apparel. The classic child’s sundress was a surprising gray, though that didn’t stop it from being decorated elaborately with frills and ribbons. When Alfred looked her over closer, he saw that she too had scuff marks, but it was obvious that she was rather ashamed inturn. Her hands keep fluttering to adjust her appearance even though the only people who could see her were himself and the newly dubbed North.  _ South _ , Alfred realized, and sighed. He glances at the clock (that somehow managed to remain untouched) hanging on the far wall. It wasn’t even late enough for the sun to be up.

     “So...do you guys want breakfast?”

     One could tell they were related to him with the ease they prioritized food over any argument they were having.

* * *

 

     Breakfast was a slightly awkward affair. For one, the dining room was destroyed, so they made due with sitting at the two-person table in the kitchen. When North and South weren’t glaring at each other, they put all their attention on the meal in front of them. From the second Alfred dropped the eggs and toast in front of them, they hadn’t looked up once. Quite honestly, perhaps Alfred should’ve been more concerned on both the fact that he had apparently gained two charges and also what it said about him that he handled it so well (in his opinion). 

     North finished first. “Mister, I have some major concerns in the state of affairs of the country that I want to discuss.”

     ”Charlaton,” South muttered under her breath, who had been picking at the last remains of her food.

     Now Alfred never bothered to pay attention to words that not everyone generally knew (he’s inclusive like that) but North seemed to know exactly what it meant as she tried to _ launch herself across the table _ to tackle her counterpart. Luckily, Alfred snagged the back of her coat and kept her in her chair whilst South looked on smugly.

     “Ooookay, settle down there, kiddo I’m sure South didn’t mean it,” placated Alfred. 

     South gave him a startled look. “I am  _ not _ the South, I am the Confederacy and if you would kindly refer to me by it I feel it would be easier for all of us.”

     “This is what I deal with, America; do you understand how pretentious she is?!” exclaimed North. Alfred hesitated answering either of them.

     “You’re the one who can’t respect a person's decision, Union.”

     “For the last time, YOU are South, I am North, WE are apart of America-” she pointed at Alfred. “You can’t just leave.”

     South stood up from the table and blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Normally, I would refrain from profanity as it is highly unladylike, however, for you I’ll make an exception.

     “Fuck you.”

     This startled a laugh out of Alfred (although it really shouldn’t have) which in turn got him to catch up with the situation. “Hey, hey squirt I’m not one to take sides, but maybe that's not a good idea.“

     Her face blanked, “I see, you’re on her side.”

     Alfred had apparently messed up. “No it’s not that, it's just, you know -”

    “Well you can’t stop me,” South interrupts, “just watch.” And with that she stormed out of the house. 

     Years later, it turned out, unsurprisingly, that Alfred could stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have the origin of the regions. Some quick explanations in case you missed it include: Alfred's headache in the beginning was the build up to the split and it stopped because that was when the personifications formed, lifting most if not all of the strain on him. Oh and April 12 was the day the South attacked Fort Sumter that the North was occupying. It is labeled at the start of the Civil War.
> 
> Their human names are given to them in pt 2 so chapters taking place before that will have them referred to as their personified names (North and South). In case if anyone was wondering all genders for the ocs were chosen by looking up the ratio of girl to boy for each region.  
> (I'll have you know that CC got mad at me for the winky face earlier so I had to adjust)


	3. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween! Alfred and Matthew get the kids ready to go trick-or-treating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Chucychito here (I refuse to call myself "CC" and FrickinGwaine "FG" we have terrible usernames and we have to accept it). Even though this chapter is literally being posted in the last ten minutes of the day, happy Halloween everyone!
> 
> In case anyone needs a reference, here are the human names for the regions
> 
> Amy= Northeast  
> Trixie= South  
> West= West (we're original and creative)  
> Wyatt= Midwest  
> Marcelina= Hawaii  
> Kaya= Alaska  
> Pablo= Puerto Rico

October 31, present day

 

If someone had asked Canada this morning what he would be doing for Halloween, he probably would have said something about making a couple (a lot) of pancakes and staying up watching  Trailer Park Boys until the early hours, alone and feeling bad for himself. Yesterday, Quebec had informed that he would be the one to take the [Canadian] regions trick-or-treating under the guise that it would give Matthew more “free time” to get “important things done” (perhaps the granting of independence to a certain province, wink wink, nudge nudge).

 

Standing on the porch outside his brother’s two-story house, Matthew wondered if Alfred was aware of that. Or maybe Alfred just forgot about Matthew’s charges and was trying to be inclusive when he invited him to join them for their own halloween experience. Whatever the cause, Matthew was more than grateful. Maybe he would get him something extra nice for Christmas this year.

Alfred threw open the door before Matthew even had time to knock.

 

"Hey bro! You're here!"

 

Matthew smiled at Alfred's boundless enthusiasm, but the smile faltered when he caught sight of what, exactly, his brother was wearing.

 

"Um, Al?" Matthew didn't know how to voice his... Concerns, without sounding rude. Fortunately, Alfred must've taken the hint.

 

"Oh, my costume?" He spun around in excitement, finger gunning Matthew when he'd come back around. "Like it? I'm the Christmas spirit!" He proceeded to do that obnoxious laugh that no one but he could effectively mimic, and Matthew couldn't help chuckling himself (granted, his was so quiet it could hardly be heard over his brother's cackles, but that was okay).

 

Matthew reached forward and pulled teasingly at one of the many strands of Christmas lights hanging from Alfred's person. "It's Halloween, Al."

 

"Never too early to get excited for Christmas!" Alfred protested. "And, dude, what are you supposed to be? You didn't dress up at all!"

 

Matthew's lips twitched ironically. Of course, Alfred wouldn't have guessed that Matthew's costume was a jab at him, despite the fact that Matthew had never in his life worn a shirt that declared "I <3 NY!" (to wear such a blatant lie made him feel bad, but it was an easy way to passive-aggressively pick at Alfred without the latter bursting into tears, so he made due).

 

"I'm a tourist."

 

"Lame! Come on inside-- gotta get the kids!" Without waiting for another response, Alfred pulled Matthew inside and leaped upstairs-- presumably to gather up said children. Matthew smiled fondly and lingered at the bottom of the staircase.

 

"Uncle Mattie!"

 

Matthew had very limited time to react before a giggling child had thrown itself into his arms.

 

"Whoa, Kaya!" Matthew laughed, spinning the boy around and setting him on the stairs so they were almost eye-level. "It hasn't been that long since I've seen you."

 

"I know!" the state of Alaska agreed cheerfully. "But I missed you."

 

Matthew's heart constricted a bit. Sometimes it was funny how these kids seemed to know exactly what Matthew needed to hear.

He leaned forward and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "I missed you too, buddy."

Kaya beamed.

 

“Hey, why aren’t you in your costume yet?” Matthew asked. “Don’t tell me you’re going as Alaska.”

 

Kaya laughed. “No! Alfred said he’d help me change. It’s really cool! Marcy said it was dumb because I can’t breathe fire but I told her that  _ she’s _ dumb because she’s spending another year as Elvis!”

 

Matthew was torn between asking what in the world Kaya was planning on dressing up as and scolding him for calling his sister dumb. Before he could make a decision, there was a crash upstairs, followed by much shouting.

 

"Amy! That's my hairbrush!"

 

"I'm just using it for a second, calm down!"

 

"Give it back!"

 

"West stop--"

 

           “AH!”

 

"Mattie! Little help here!"

 

Matthew heaved a sigh and shared an amused glance with Kaya. The small state reached his arms up expectantly. Matthew arched an eyebrow and valiantly tried to stand his ground, but unfortunately was no match for the cuteness, and he gave in rather quickly. He hoised him up and positioned him on his hip before making his way up the stairs.

 

They had barely reached the top of the steps before a child darted past, shouting incomprehensibly about something that was likely inane. It wasn’t long before another one followed suit, chasing after the first kid and screeching furiously.

 

Matthew had just enough time to shoot a hand out and latch onto the second kid’s shoulder, pulling them back and stepping before them to keep them from barrelling past.

 

“Let me go!” Marcelina spat, straining to get past Matthew and huffing in irritation. “West took my guitar!”

 

“You can’t even play it!” West poked his head back around the corner he’d disappeared down. Well, Matthew assumed it was West, as the boy’s face was covered by the stormtrooper mask he was wearing. “Besides, a cowboy stormtrooper with a guitar is much cooler than Elvis anyway!”

 

Marcelina let out a blood-curdling shriek. “TAKE THAT BACK WEST!”

 

“Whoa,” Matthew interrupted, following Marcy’s steps so she couldn’t get past him. He shifted Kaya on his hip and frowned sternly down at Hawaii (although her Elvis costume was making it very difficult to take her seriously, Matthew knew better than to let his guard down). “West,” he said calmly without turning around, “please give Marcy her guitar back.”

 

“And the hairbrush!” Amy called from the bathroom.

 

“MY hairbrush!” Trixie agreed vehemently from the same bathroom.

 

           “Aw, but Matthew,” West whined. “It completes my costume.”

 

“How?” Matthew asked bewilderedly, blocking Marcy from leaping forward to strangle her brother. “Aren’t you a stormtrooper?”

 

Alfred leaned partially out of the bathroom to address Matthew. He was holding the end of what appeared to be a hair straightener. “He couldn’t make a decision this year, so he’s a cowboy stormtrooper.”

 

“Ow! Alfred you’re pulling my hair!”

 

“Ah! Sorry Trix!” Alfred disappeared back in the room.

 

“You can’t tell me there’s an entire society of stormtroopers in the galaxy and not one of them is a cowboy!” West cried defensively. There was a pause. “Well, you  _ can,  _ but I won’t buy it!”

Amy stepped into the hallway and raised a police baton threateningly. “I’ll throw ya in jail for stealing ya little twerp!”

 

“No, Amy!” West wailed in betrayal. “Why would you be a cop? I thought I could trust you!”

 

“Amy get back in here, Al’s gonna burn my hair off!”

 

“Hey! I’m trying my best!”

 

Amy ducked back inside the bathroom.

 

Matthew tried not to portray how ridiculous and entertaining he found this situation and forced his expression to remain calm. “West, you combined two costumes already. Do you really need to steal Marcy’s?”

 

“You can’t tell me there’s an entire society of stormtroopers in the galaxy and not one of them is a cowboy who happens to play the guitar!” West protested heatedly.

 

“ELVIS NEEDS A GUITAR!” Marcy screamed.

 

“Stop yelling,” Kaya scolded with an adorable furrow of his eyebrows.

 

“What am I supposed to do? Not yell?!” Marcy demanded furiously.

 

Matthew held out a hand placatingly. “Why don’t we all just calm down?” he suggested. “West? Amy and Trixie need that hairbrush back-- no one can see your hair right now anyway, it’s in a helmet.”

 

West grumbled something that Matthew didn’t catch and sighed sullenly. “Fine. They can have the stupid brush.”

 

“And Marcy’s guitar,” Matthew reminded gently.

 

Since Matthew still wasn’t facing West he couldn’t tell for sure, but it sounded like he’d dragged his feet a little closer to them before halting abruptly.

 

“You don’t think it’d be cool?” he asked weakly.

 

“Well, of course it would!” Alfred shouted from the bathroom. “But you don’t need to make yourself any cooler West, you’re already off the charts.”

 

Marcy looked outraged at this, but she somehow managed to remain quiet, knowing any objections to that statement would have West even less willing to hand the guitar over.

 

“Really? You think so?” Matthew could hear the giddy smile in West’s voice. “Of course you do! Okay, Marcy, here.”

 

Sensing the diffusion of the fight, Matthew tentatively stepped aside to let West and Marcy communicate…

 

And almost burst out laughing when he’d caught sight of West’s whole outfit (thankfully, his attempts to conceal his amusement went unnoticed).

 

The kid had a cowboy hat atop his stormtrooper helmet, and the strands were tied firmly underneath to keep it from falling off. His stormtrooper costume was adorned with a brown leather vest with a shiny yellow sheriff’s badge. Spurred boots and a cowboy revolver completed the look.

 

Marcy ripped the black guitar out of West’s hands. “Thanks for nothing!”

 

West laughed (oh God, it wasn’t perfected yet but Matthew had no doubt that as the child got older he’d have a near perfect imitation of Alfred’s laugh). “Anytime, sweetheart!” He scampered off towards the bathroom with Marcy hot on his heels, shouting about calling her “sweetheart”.

 

“Your family is a mess, eh?” Matthew told Kaya conspiratorially.

 

Kaya nodded. “Yep.”

 

Matthew shook his head with a soft smile before turning and around. “Hey, where’s Wyatt? And Pablo?”

 

“Pablo’s downstairs picking a movie for us to watch when we get back.” Alfred stepped out of the bathroom, sending an apologetic glance towards it. “They kicked me out to do makeup,” he informed sadly.

 

Matthew patted his shoulder comfortingly. “They  _ are  _ teenagers.”

 

“I know!” Alfred lamented. “They’re growing up so fast.”

 

“It’s been two centuries, Al.”

 

“But I still see them as the kids that broke into my house.”

 

Coming from anyone else, that line would probably hold no sentimentality. Coming from Alfred, Matthew was concerned by how much it meant. 

 

He was going to speak up and say something comforting when Kaya reached his arms out to Alfred. “Costume?”

 

Alfred’s troubled expression cleared and his grin returned full-force. “Oh yeah! Come on, kiddo!” He winked at Matthew as the latter handed Kaya over. “What am I talking about,  _ eh _ ?” he mocked (Matthew’s eye twitched). “I still got the little ones!” he turned his head to address Kaya, who now rested comfortably in his arms. “Let’s go get that costume on now.”

 

Kaya clapped in excitement.

 

Matthew watched them walk down the hallway before turning around in confusion. That still left Wyatt unaccounted for. Where could he be?

 

Matthew decided to check his room first, and made his way down the stairs and into the corridor leading towards it. There was no light on underneath the door, but Matthew knocked quietly anyway.

 

“Wyatt? You in there?”

 

There was a several second pause, and Matthew was just about to give up and check somewhere else when the door opened hesitantly.

 

“Uncle Mattie?” the boy asked with a confused frown. He was already in his costume-- the fake sideburns and eyebrows around his face and the faux fur along his hands, coupled with the extra long claws and the red flannel shirt and ripped jeans told Matthew he was going as a werewolf this year.

 

“What are you doing, hiding in your room?” Matthew asked with a frown of his own. “Aren’t you excited?”

 

“Yes,” Wyatt said, but Matthew noticed that the weak smile the child offered was pretty lackluster in comparison to its usual brightness.

 

Matthew frowned and knelt down so he wasn’t stooping so tall over Wyatt. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

 

Wyatt let out a weary sigh and leaned back against the doorframe. “I guess I’m just a little sad that Trixie’s going as Dorothy and no one recognizes that Kansas and  The Wizard of Oz  are both mine.”

 

Matthew’s frown deepened. “Does that mean she’s not allow to dress up and enjoy it?”

 

Wyatt seemed t sink further back in the doorway. “No.” His voice was small. “It’s just that I don’t get noticed very often and when I  _ do  _ it’s usually for bad stuff. It’s almost like I don’t exist sometimes and so I just wanted--”

 

There was a crash upstairs, followed by the sound of someone’s hurried footsteps as they ran down the stairs. Not a moment later, Alfred was sliding down the hallway towards them with a mildly panicked expression.

 

“Don’t say that Wyatt!” he admonished, dropping to his knees beside Matthew. “Where would we be without our little corn farmer?”

 

Matthew briefly wondered how Alfred had even heard the boy’s soft-spoken admission from all the way upstairs. “Um, Al, I don’t think that’s very thoughtful--”

 

“”Really?” Wyatt interrupted apprehensively, fidgeting with the fur on his hands.

 

“Of course little dude! You know I wouldn’t lie!” Alfred gave Wyatt a thousand-watt smile, and the boy stood up a tad straighter and returned the grin full-force (a much more cheery adaption of the first one he’d given Matthew). Alfred winked and briefly reached a hand out to squeeze Wyatt’s shoulder. “Alright kid, why don’t you go head out to the entryway? We’re almost all set to go.”

 

“Okay!” Wyatt dove back inside his room and returned not a second later with a plastic shopping bag (Matthew assumed that was his trick or treating bag, although why the child was resorting to a Walmart bag was beyond him), tearing off down the hallway to join his siblings.

 

Matthew blinked in confusion and turned questioningly to Alfred. “You called him a corn farmer and it cheered him up.”

 

Alfred got to his feet and helped pull Matthew up beside him. “Yeah, he likes corn,” he said simply as they started walking after Wyatt. After a moment, he added, “he grows it and tries to eat it with every meal, I swear.” Alfred shook his head with a fond expression.

 

“It’s about time!” Marcy glowered when the two had appeared in the entrance hall.

 

“We have plenty of time,” Alfred retorted good-naturedly.

 

Amy tapped her watch. Her police costume was almost  _ too  _ good-- no wonder West (in all his cowboy/stormtrooper glory) was keeping as much distance from her as he could. “If we wanna hit the good houses, we should leave soon,” she said.

 

Standing beside her with crossed arms, Trixie rolled her eyes. “You always know everything.”

 

“Where are your glasses young lady?” Alfred asked disapprovingly.

 

Trixie shrugged, sending a braid falling behind her shoulder. “Dorothy doesn’t wear glasses, Al.”

 

“Dorothy wasn’t blind as a bat like you!”

 

“I’m near-sighted, not blind!”

 

“Hey!” Pablo interrupted (this was the first Matthew had seen of his costume-- a very thorough pirate’s outfit. He even had an eye patch and a rubber sword from which his pumpkin candy bowl hung). “We should not be _arrr_ -guing when we  _ could  _ be getting candy!”

 

“He’s right!” Marcy and West declared at the same time. West laughed and Marcy scowled.

 

“Are my teeth right?” Wyatt turned to Matthew expectantly and opened his mouth. His fake teeth very much completed the werewolf look the boy was going for.

 

“All good,” Matthew confirmed.

 

Alfred leaned down to scoop up Kaya (and Matthew really did almost let out an “Aww” when he saw the kid in his costume-- a full dragon suit with a hood and a tail. That must’ve been what Kaya had been talking about when he’d mentioned firebreathing. Oh gosh, why did he have to be so freaking adorable?) and turned to face the rest of the kids.

 

“Alright crew! Here it is!” Alfred shifted Kaya and clapped his hands. The Christmas lights that were wrapped around his entire body swished around a bit. “Our mission is to gather as much candy as we possibly can. Whoever gets the most is off of bathroom duty for the next three days. Let’s charge!”

 

And with that, six children and Alfred all simultaneously ran out the door with shockingly fierce battle cries.

 

Matthew sighed and took a moment to regret not photographing the moment before racing to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a side note-- updating will probably not be as consistent or regular in the future. But hey, we promised that first chapter and then it was Halloween, so we had to write the first one and then do something special for the holiday. Let me know if you liked the chapter I put my blood, sweat, and tears into it.
> 
> Just kidding. Just my sweat and tears.
> 
> Anyway, if you guys have any suggestions for upcoming chapters that we could write, let us know in the comments!


	4. Wyatt makes a friend, pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Times are changing in the late 1800s, and Wyatt wants a part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitches! Betcha thought you saw the last of me.
> 
> Kidding.
> 
> Not really.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Enjoy.

**Late 1800s**

 

There was a child watching him.

 

Henry tried to ignore it at first-- after all, he really was quite busy. He might be young now, but he swore he was going to end up looking like his old man if he kept farming in the midday sun so often. 

 

Despite this, Henry couldn’t help stealing a few worrying glances for himself. What was a little boy doing wandering the town by himself? Perhaps someone was looking for him.

If that was the case, Henry reasoned that he should probably do something. Although very important, his work could be resumed later.

 

Now, how to approach this...

 

Fortunately, before Henry could come up with a euphemistic way to speak to the boy, the child spoke first.

 

"You stopped."

 

Henry's eyebrows drew together in confusion. The child pointed at the hoe in Henry's hands. "Working," he clarified.

 

Henry let out a chuckle. "I suppose so."

 

The boy took a few small steps closer. "I can help," he offered earnestly.

 

Henry smiled softly. "Where are your mother and father?"

 

The boy's open expression instantly shuttered and he abruptly stopped walking. "Amy says we're not supposed to call Alfred "dad"."

 

Oh boy, that didn't sound good. Henry frowned and tried to push away the feeling that something was very wrong. "Who is Amy?"

 

"My sister."

 

"Do you know where she is?"

 

The child shrugged. "I dunno. Probably New York. Maybe DC." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Somewhere over there."

 

Well, maybe his sister was quite a bit older and had moved away from the family? Henry firmly told himself that nothing was out of the ordinary with this child (except for the fact that he was unsupervised in a rural town... Henry had to get back on track).

 

"Where is your family?"

 

The boy shrugged carelessly once more. "Dunno. Al said he was busy. West is grounded at home. I think Pablo and Trixie were arguing about who was in charge of dinner when I left."

 

"Where is your home?" Henry pressed.

 

"Um... We have a lot of them. I think Detroit is where everyone is.”

 

"Detroit?" Henry repeated in alarm. The boy nodded cheerfully. "How in the world did you manage to get all the way over here?"

 

The child appeared bored with these questions, and rocked back on his heels. "You were working. You didn't have to stop." He grinned shyly. "I can help."

 

Henry sighed wearily and dragged a hand down his face, forgetting momentarily that they were coated with dirt and accidentally smearing it across his face. "What's your name, kid?"

 

The boy preened and declared proudly, "Oh! It’s Wyatt Jones!"

 

"And how old are you, Wyatt?"

 

Wyatt looked taken aback by the question. With a frown, he started counting on his fingers and did so for a much longer time than a child his size should need to calculate his age. "27?" he guessed. "But wait, that doesn't sound right," he murmured to himself, and started counting again.

 

Henry decided to assume that Wyatt was around five.

 

"How about I take you home, Wyatt?" Henry offered carefully. The drive would be long and he wouldn't get home before dark, but he couldn't just let this kid roam the streets of Greenfield when he should be home in Detroit.

 

Gee, wouldn't it be nice if there was an affordable way to travel that was faster than horse and buggy? Too bad automobiles were for the rich.

 

"I can help you work," Wyatt insisted. "I'm good with farming and stuff."

 

"I don't doubt it," Henry said gently. "But I would feel much better if you were home with your family."

 

Wyatt crossed his arms petulantly. "They're not worried, it's fine."

 

Henry tried to quell the disgust he was beginning to feel for this child's family. What kind of people didn't worry about their five-year old and didn't notice when he managed to wander off several cities over?

 

Henry bent down to Wyatt's level and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Wyatt, what is your family like?"

 

Wyatt's smile was bright and excited, and despite the situation Henry felt a smile pulling at his own lips. "They're great! Sometimes they forget I'm there, but it's okay-- it's always really busy. Trixie and Amy are always yelling at each other, but Amy reads to me and West, and Trixie makes really good food. Pablo's a little weird and I don't really know what he's saying half the time, but he's really nice and gives us all hugs. West plays cowboys with me, but we kept getting in trouble so Alfred took our guns away." Henry's eyes widened at this, but he didn't interrupt the flow of babble that Wyatt was spouting. "And Al is really awesome, too! Sometimes he even comes hunting with me!"

 

Henry thought about the phrasing of that final sentence and decided he needed to bring the kid home, if only to give this "Alfred" a piece of his mind. Then, perhaps he'd notify the authorities.

 

"Alright, Wyatt, you want to help me, right?" Wyatt nodded vigorously. "You know what would really help me out? If you let me take you home to your family."

 

Wyatt frowned distrustfully. "How does that help you?"

 

"Gives me a break from this farm," Henry said with genuine relief (dear Lord, he hated this place). "Come on; my carriage is this way."

 

In hindsight, Wyatt's willingness to blindly trust any adult he met might've been the biggest issue of them all. Henry added it to the list of things he would address with the boy's caretaker as the boy in question cheerfully followed Henry's lead.

 

* * *

 

There was a several second pause before the door swung open. Henry, expecting to become face to face with an adult figure, was completely thrown at the empty space before his eyes. His gaze eventually wandered down to see another child, leaning in the doorway and sipping from a suspicious-looking flask.

 

"Oh, hey, Wy," the boy said casually, waving lazily at Wyatt. He glanced at Henry curiously. "What? 'D'ja find a friend?"

 

"West! How many times have I told you not to open the door for strangers!"

 

A very harried looking young man had come scurrying down the stairs and appeared behind West to pull him protectively away from the door.

 

"It's just Wyatt," West protested, tipping his flask back and frowning when nothing came out. "I'm out of coffee," he accused, brandishing the flask at the older man (Henry really despised to describe him so-- the man could've very well still been a teenager like he himself).

 

The elder teen pushed the container away and turned his attention to the door. His face broke into a wide grin when he caught sight of Wyatt. "Hey, kiddo! Just in time for dinner. Why don't you go wash your hands-- West get your own coffee!"

 

Wyatt dutifully trailed inside with West at his heels, the latter scowling irritably at Alfred over his shoulder.

 

Henry cleared his throat and Alfred's gaze snapped to him. He was still beaming. "Oh, hey! Thanks for bringing him home! Sorry if he was a bother; he doesn't really understand boundaries yet." (Alfred tried not to snicker at his own pun. Ah, Toledo).

 

"Oh no, it was no problem," Henry assured. "He's really quite a sweet kid."

 

Alfred winced at these words, thinking back to just yesterday when said "sweet kid" had convinced West that if he jumped off the roof he could fly (and then nearly convinced Alfred that West should be the one to get in trouble because he was the one who believed such an obvious lie; if it wasn't for Amy pointing out that West was West and couldn't help it, he would've given in. Wyatt was a scary child indeed).

 

"Mhmm," he agreed with a grimace. He hesitated for a second before pulling the door open a bit wider. "Really, I can't thank you enough. Would you like to have dinner with us?"

 

Henry paused. Damn, this guy was so polite! How was Henry to lecture him on proper child raising etiquette at this rate?

 

Alfred must’ve seen Henry's indecision. "I understand if ya have things to do or whatever, but Trixie and Pablo made tamales."

 

"Pasteles!" a voice corrected from somewhere in the house.

 

"They're tamales," Alfred whispered conspiratorially.

 

Henry chuckled, and then abruptly admonished himself for doing so. He cleared his throat once again. "Oh, alright. That sounds nice."

 

"Sweet!" Alfred grinned. Before moving out of the way, he held out his hand to shake. "I'm Alfred; nice to meet you."

 

"Henry," Henry replied, shaking Alfred's hand. He tried not to be obvious about how badly the other was crushing his fingers.

 

"Before we go inside," Alfred warned, drawing his hand away (much to Henry’s relief), "my family is a bit... Hard to handle."

 

"Yes, I suppose that's why I found Wyatt all the way in Greenfield?" Henry really was aiming to sound passive-aggressive and sarcastic but alas, it sounded sympathetic.

 

Alfred blinked. "Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so. Come on in."

 

Henry coughed a bit awkwardly and stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, bonus points to those who can guess who Henry is. It might be obvious. I don't know.
> 
> T*he reason Alfred is so preoccupied is because at the time, technology was beginning to boom in the US. 
> 
> Also, the mention of Toledo is reference to the Toledo War. Basically, neither Ohio and Michigan couldn't gain statehood until they had a defined border, so they fought over a Tiny Strip of land. Eventually Ohio won and let Michigan have the upper peninsula.
> 
> Comments always appreciated! As always, we are willing to take suggestions! Let us know what you're looking forward to.


	5. North and South pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brain: do the first set of rules to write next, it'll be easy and you'll be done quick  
> me: cool sounds like a plan  
> *4 months later and facing over 5 thousand words plus a split of the chapter bc it was too big otherwise*  
> Me: this was not the plan, wth  
> -Either way sorry for the delay, once again thank to my partner, Chucychito, who without this probably would have taken another two months
> 
> The girls are still seven but they're like, mature seven (lol)

Early 1870s

Afternoon

 

England must never know that Alfred did, in fact, do his work. In truth, Alfred was so on top of his work that on his desk before him there wasn’t a single paper that he hadn’t looked over. In a regular situation, one would think that Alfred wouldn't hesitate to rub this in England’s face, but it was the reason for his productive behavior that was the issue. 

“NORTH, THAT’S MINE!”

“YOU WEREN’T EVEN USING IT-- HEY, STOP HITTING ME!”

The young nation reached for the the small container of brandy in the second drawer of his desk.The Civil War years had been a trial for everyone. North had perhaps physically fared the best, the trade off being that it made her the observer to her sister’s and his own experience. Although she could not take their pain, North took it upon herself to help in anyway she could.

While there had been a sort of weight lifted off of him when the girls came around, Alfred still felt the deep, unsettling ache of dissonance. It was the feeling of two sides with an equal claim asking him for more than he could give. Often times Alfred was hit in waves of vertigo; some days with little side effects allowing him to be able to get up and pretend he was fine, others where he could hardly move enough in bed to reach the bucket. Through all his days, North was by his side. Never abandoning him when he was well and when he was not, keeping the unwanted out and preserving the hopeful image to others of a nation that was going to be okay.

South’s pride was probably what forced her to continue to the bitter end. Her fury burning to firecracker before settling in the embers as she faced defeat. By the end of it, she had lost much of her momentum, the Confederacy falling apart causing her more feelings of disunity than the kind each of them already felt. Dozens of scratches and red marks littered her skin, and her clothes had tears here and there, as though she had only fell on the gravel. It had been North who was the first to fall to her knees and join her sister on the ground, hugging her while saying assurances of “We’ll help you”, “We’re together again”, and “I’ll make sure of it” before Alfred could join them and bring them in a group hug. 

She kept her word, and that was why Alfred was not truly upset with the chaos they caused now. Because after the fighting there were only quiet days. Soft words as the recuperating Alfred and North tiptoed around the brunette. Days where North refused to leave her side, and South hesitant, but still accepting the aid. It was North’s self-imposed mission to rebuild South’s fire. Slowly, South had regained her spirit and no longer relied so heavily on her sister. The first time they got into an argument, Alfred couldn’t even scold them properly because he was smiling too hard. So, no, he was not upset with the ruckus, because the chaos meant everything was alright.

Something broke upstairs.

Alfred poured a second glass.

But that didn’t mean that he always needed to deal with it right away. Which brought him back to his current problem. 

As the girls got their energy back up, Alfred confessed to himself that he needed a break during the day where he could rest without a constant fear of a child appearing out of nowhere. Thus, work time was invented; essentially, it was like putting himself in a timeout. During the three hours that he was in the study, the kids were not allowed to bother him unless it was a first class emergency (such emergencies counted as but are not limited to: fires that are too big to put out on their own, broken bones or dismembered limbs, strangers at the door, nations at the door, spiders that are bigger than a nickel, and running out of food). 

But now there was no more work and no more excuses. Truly, if Alfred were to stay here any longer he might run a risk of developing an alcohol problem. He looked at the clock and noted that it had only been an hour. Finishing the drink, he slowly started putting his things away.

There was a gunshot.

Things started being put away at a slightly faster rate.

The floorboards softly groaned as Alfred made his way outside. The shot sounded like it came from the right, but that didn’t make sense as the only way outside was left. 

Bang!

Nevermind, Alfred thought as he turned around and headed to the living room. 

“Shhh, quickly, move the the painting. I think America’s coming.”

“I’m trying, North, but it’s not working.”

“What did you two break?” the twins jumped as Alfred appeared behind them.  

“Nothing!” Fate was against them as right at that moment the painting fell along with Alfred’s jaw. A  _ very  _ damaged wall lay beneath it. Where it once was a smooth white wall was now a hole the size of an apple that allowed him to see their backyard. 

“How--  _ what--,” _  he stuttered.

“Heeey America, did you finish your work already?”

The question brought him up short and he looked at North. “Well, yes, kind o-- Hey, don’t distract me! What did you guys do?”

“South did it!” North pointed, seeing that her plan had failed.

“Oh, why do you always put the blame on  _ me. _ ”

“ _ No _ fighting-” Alfred took a deep breath. “Okay, now how did you make a hole in the house.”

The blonde gave a slight pleading look which South promptly ignored, instead focusing on a wall that wasn’t damaged. North hesitantly began, “Well, you see America, it’s not like it was our  _ intention _ to-- uh-- damage the the house--” Alfred snorted, “--but accidents happen.”

“That didn’t answer my question, North.”

“Right, ummm-”

“We shot it.” North sent her sister a scandalized look.  _ Well we did _ , South seemed to say back. 

“You, you-- you shot… you shot the wall.” Alfred rubbed his forehead, trying to comprehend. “I don’t-- just...don’t do it again.” He turned around and walked back down the hall.

“Where are you going?” North called after him.

“I have work to finish in the study,” he yelled back.

He could feel them glance at each other. “But you said you finished work early.”

“I’ll make more!”

* * *

 

Evening

 

“I promise we didn’t  _ mean _ to damage the house, America.” 

Alfred sighed. “I know you didn’t.” It took a little bit for Alfred to decide what to do when he went to the study. The only experience he had with children was himself and then Canada. However, neither of them made a good comparison to the girls. Alfred may have not been an angel, but he had never put a hole in the wall; he didn’t know if Canada did anything similar either as he wasn’t exactly allowed to stick around after the whole “revolution against the country that raised you, you ungrateful brat”. In the end, Alfred figured he was overreacting, and came back out with a very firm, “Don’t do it again.” 

And that’s where they left it. Now they were making dinner. Alfred had planned to make chili and had even put out the ingredients for it. Yet, somehow when he turned away for a second, he came back to three burgers that were already half done. It worked out either way as Alfred always did prefer burgers when he was stressed. South was helping him in the kitchen and still claiming her innocence while North was outside collecting vegetables from the garden. Silently, he and South worked next to each other, neither of them quite sure on how to proceed now that the issue was settled. 

The door opened with a bang. “I’M BACK.”

Alfred huffed and smiled. “Say it louder, North, I couldn’t tell.”

North giggled a little as she moved into the kitchen with a large bag weighing her steps and an old musket shifting on the strap on her back. 

“Wait-- no, North--” South started backing away as her sister approached with a dirty burlap sack to put on the counter. South sighed. “You’re going to get dirt everywhere.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” North said as she rubbed her chin, leaving a dark mark on it. “Right, America?”

“I would prefer a lack of dirt in my food, in all honesty, North,” Alfred countered. 

North made a displeased noise as she took the sack back off the counter and to the sink. “I don’t understand why we have a garden, all of us hate gardening and nothing grows.”

“Well next time you want a carrot, then you can take your sister and walk  _ all _ the way down to the market in town.”

“Hey, why do I have to go,” South accused as she handed him a patty for him to put on the pan. “I’m perfectly happy with our baby potatoes, they’re so cute.”

Alfred snorted. “Do you want to send North out alone?”

South froze, hand hovering over the last patty, and slowly she turned to Alfred with wide eyes. As she shifted her gaze behind her to North she saw her sister trying her best to look affronted. The blonde tried to cross her arms but as she was still holding the burlap, the motion caused for it to tilt slightly and several small vegetables to fall out, ruining the effect. 

South turned back to Alfred and with a wise and sage nod said, “Point taken.”

“Hey!” North tried to say, but at this point Alfred had already started laughing. 

“Come on,” Alfred nodded towards the table. “South, help you sister set the table.” 

“Ugh,” she said, stepping away from the counter and grabbing a towel to wipe off her hands. North responded with a cheeky smile as her sister gave her a set of plates to put on the table while she grabbed the freshly washed vegetables. 

Alfred brought the burgers over to the table and joined the girls. When they were all seated he took the moment to look around. With a sigh, Alfred put his elbows on the table, resting his face in his palms. “North?”

“Yeah?” she replied reaching over to grab a portion. The musket still rested on her back, shifting everytime it moved forward. 

“Could you please put the gun away?” Alfred finished, causing North to freeze. South, warily watching the proceedings, slowly continued to eat. 

Sheepishly, North tucked a loose blonde strand of hair back. “Oops, sorry, America.” She then took the strap off and rested the barrel of the gun against the back of her chair. 

Alfred sighed again,”From now on try to keep firearms outside of the house unless their unloaded, okay?”

Both girls gave a slight nod.

“I thought we were having chili tonight?” North piped up. 

South answered, “We tried but America has either been blessed or cursed with the ability to only make decent burgers.”

“DEcent?” Alfred dramatically scoffed. “Well excuse you, young lady, but if you don’t like my cooking,” he said reaching over and slowly dragging South’s plate away, “then I guess you don’t have to eat it.” 

“What? Nooo.” South whined, trying to keep her own grasp on the plate in order to prevent it from being taken. “I take it back, please, I promise not to insult your burgers again.”

Alfred hummed in thought. “Alright, but don’t let it happen again,” he said as he released the plate, shooting South a quick grin. 

“Hmrph hmph.”

“Don’t speak with food in your mouth North,” Alfred said with slightly less food in his mouth.

North swallowed and began. “I said, ‘Yeah right’ because South can’t go a day without insulting something.”

“That is not true,” South said defending herself.

“Yesterday you said I looked like a boy in my clothes, but you can hardly even see me!” 

“You literally wear boy’s clothes; I’m just pointing it out!”

“ _ See _ ,” North said, gesturing a hand at the brunette while looking at Alfred. Alfred took the wise route and continued eating his food. Seeing that Alfred would not back her up, North reluctantly let the point drop...for tonight’s dinner. She looked to South. “Hey, can you pass me the potatoes?”

“Hmmm,” South said scouping some onto her own plate. “No.”

North squawked, “What, why not?”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“South,” Alfred said in warning.

“She could at least say please, America. Besides she insulted my honor.”

“Well I’m sorry, Your Highness,” North said dramatically, putting a hand to her chest. “Didn’t realize that this was a monarchy* you were running.” Alfred choked on a pickle. 

South face flushed, her freckles standing out more. “Well,” she said as she very deliberately moved to put the plate on the end of the table, uncoincidentally, the farthest possible from her sister. “I suppose then it is my duty to make peasants get their due.” The plate clattered as it was forcefully put down.

North narrowed her eyes from South to the dish. Alfred figured it was probably time he intervened. “Girls, I don’t think--“

North took the moment to launch out of her seat, reaching over the table. As she did so, her chair was knocked backwards by her heel and tipped over the musket. South felt time move slower as she watched the firearm’s path to the ground. Instinct took over and South tipped over in her own chair to the opposite direction, landing on the ground. The gun hit the marble floor with a loud clatter a half a second before it went off. A strong shattering sound could be heard behind them all. North froze, gray eyes gone wide, and very much not wanting to look behind her. Alfred from his spot closed his eyes and very much wished what he think had happened, had not.

“South?” Alfred said after a beat on echoing silence.

“...Yes America?” She said from the floor.

“Before I look for myself, can you tell me what just happened?”

“Well, um, it seems we now have two holes in the house and a need to replace a window.”

Alfred let out a slow and long breath. “North?”

“Uh-Yes?” she said hesitantly.

“Run.”

* * *

 

Night

 

Architecture is not something Alfred should get a career in. The window was not something he could fix, leaving him the option of just boarding it up for now. Instead, he tried his hand at the other one. However, as he stared at the sloppy repair job he tried on the living room wall, Alfred came to the conclusion it looked more like he put mush on it than anything close to decent. 

Alfred sighed, resting his head on the wall next to the patchwork mess. He wondered if all kids were this...rambunctious, or if it just came with the personified ones. Of course there was also the possibility that the girls were worse because they were his. Either way the issue should be resolved now. ‘Weapons unloaded in the house,’ was what he said as he had one hand holding a squirming blonde child upside down and the other placed firmly on a slightly freckled shoulder. 

A small groan was heard behind him. “America,” North wined. Alfred turned around and leaned back against the wall. “I said I’m sorry, please,” she said as she jostled the buckets she was carrying. “There’s like twenty more trips I have to make. Don’t make me fill the baths.”

“Hmm,” Alfred rubbed his chin in contemplation. “You see I would ease up, but something tells me South wouldn’t appreciate you getting off easy. Sooo, no.” He gave a crooked smile.

“Nooooo,”North whined as she slowly trotted up the steps to the bathroom.

“Straight to bed after baths, got it?” Alfred called after her. He shook his head at her fondly as he heard the small curses she whispered under her breath in response. Pushing off the wall, Alfred made his was to the kitchen table and grabbed a pen and paper. He had decided to write a letter and see if there was someone in town who could fix his house sometime soon. Preferably before any visitors came. 

While he was doing this, he kept an ear out to track North’s progress up the stairs. Luckily, the bathroom was to the immediate left on the room, meaning the sound easily down to where he sat at the dining room table. Thus he heard a clear, “Aha!” followed by what sounded like North kicking the door open. South must have been getting ready for bed in there as he also picked up on a short screech before all talk faded in to murmerings. 

Alfred was only to the first paragraph of his letter before he heard what sounded like a splash and two thumps hitting the floor. It was silent for a moment and Alfred leaned back to look up the stairs suspiciously. 

A high and panicked voice yelled, “ _ Alfred! _ North!”

It’s surprising what a person can pick up from those they live close to. Whether it’s the little mannerisms of their body or the inflictions in their voice. And one can learn much more when they are put in a situation of stress. So after a four years war used to fight one another, and another set in turn to try and rebuild what was lost, Alfred learned his girls. 

He learned when North wanted someone to humor her and when she needed validation, to acknowledge she wasn’t just a mundane child.

He learned when South wanted to be coddled and when she needed comfort, to be reminded that she may represent her people, but she was not them. 

Alfred learned when a situation happened when the girls needed a mediator and when they needed  _ him. _

So there was no hesitation on his part as he raced up the stairs to see what had happened. The bathroom floor was flooded and probably had more water on it than the tub did. North sat on the ground beside the now empty buckets and (despite being the one originally holding the buckets) had managed to only get her trousers wet. However, she sat curled in on herself, cradling her elbow and eyes starting to shine from an injury Alfred didn’t yet knew the full extent of. 

South on the other hand, was laid on her stomach and propped up by her elbows, gaze darting back and forth from where Alfred entered and to her sister’s position. She was completely watered down, hair and dress plastered to her. There was not only a higher concentration of water by her, but also an out of place rifle that must have also gotten soaked. Thankfully, she seemed uninjured.

Shaking his thoughts, Alfred carefully stepped into the room and crouched next to North who was holding back sniffles. “Hey, hey it’s okay, North. Take a deep breath okay?” She did as instructed. “Good that’s very good, now I’m going to pick you up. But first you gotta tell me what hurts.”

“El-,” she took a ragged breath. “Elbow.”

He gave an exaggerated wince. “Well that’s gotta hurt, but hey, there’s some good news.” She looked at him, gray eyes rapidly blinking as she tried to guess where he’s going. “Wha?”

“I think I can let you out of your chores now,” he lightly joked as he moved to     gently place his arms behind her back and under her knees. She gave a weak chuckle that turned into a wince as Alfred lifted her and stood. Gently, he cradled her to his chest and her head rested by his collar bone. “Would you look at that, now you’re being a princess carried, you must love that. I promise not to tell anyone and preserve your honor for a little longer, okay?”

He felt a slight nod against his chest. Finally, Alfred turned his attention to South. “I’m going to bring North to her room, do you want to follow?”

South’s mouth opened for a second before it shut again and she looked at the state of the bathroom. Alfred, seeing where her thoughts were headed, spoke again. “Hey, no, don’t worry about that. I’m not mad. It’s just water and I’ll come back and clean it up later.” South swallowed and slowly picked herself up, brown eyes dull and downcast. 

Alfred, slowly due to the child in his arms, knelt back down before South. “You’re probably not going to be comfortable moving about in those clothes, how about I carry you too?’

South glanced at North. “You can’t,” she said.

Alfred responded with and airy laugh. “You forget, my girl, that I have a front and back, both excellent for carrying.” South let out a small smile for him but still looked uncertain.

“Alfred carried a horse once remember?” piped a strained voice under him. North’s breathing was becoming more regulated, which relieved Alfred a fair bit.

“See, South, unless you’re secretly heavier than a horse, I think I can carry you.” Alfred nodded behind him to gesture that it was okay for her to get on. She carefully hopped onto his back. He felt her relax against him as she realized that he wasn’t going to tip over. “And up we go,” Alfred said as he rose to make his way to the girl’s rooms.

It was silent as Alfred walked down the corridor. He was consciously aware of all movement around him. He felt North’s shaky breaths on his chest and the tightening of her fingers from where she managed to grab his wrist every time his steps jostled her. 

From behind him, he felt the movement of braided hair as South moved to peer over his other shoulder where North’s face was. She waited until her sister glanced up. South repositioned herself on Alfred’s back, threading an arm more securely around him so she could support herself better on one arm. Alfred feeling this slowed down a little, just in case.

He saw from the corner of his eye a small arm reach down to a tear tracked face. With one finger extended South whispered, “Boop,” as she tapped North’s nose. North gave her a baffled look which South responded in turn with a soft smile. 

They reached the room and Alfred knelt down again to allow South to hop off. Alfred turned to the bed and gently laid North down before looking at her arm. He tsked. “Well, it’s not broken, but you sure bruised it, North.”

“It may be bruised, but I’m pretty sure this is it for me, Alfred,” she deadpanned. 

“Hey now,” Alfred shushed. “Don’t talk like that. It’ll heal in a day or two even it was more serious.” Wordlessly, Alfred still went to wrap it. South appeared at his side with bandages she’d grabbed after she had finished changing. 

“So,” Alfred started as he started wrapping the arm. “What exactly happened.”

“I threatened to splash South with the buckets, so she threatened to hit me with her rifle,” North explained bitterly. “I accidently spilled water and ended up slipping on it. I think I hit my arm on one of the buckets.”

Alfred blinked, pausing his movements. “About that, South, you had a rifle in the bathroom?”

South flushed. “I clean it when the waters warming up to the bath.” 

Blonde hair fell in his face as he shook his head. Finished North’s bandages, he spoke, “It’s been a long day, and I know this was an accident. But I would feel better if you both promise me that there will be no more ‘incidents’ again. In fact, I don’t want to see you guys touching a firearm unless I give clear permission beforehand, okay?”

South winced. “Yeah, okay.” North simply nodded, seemingly tired from the day as well. 

Alfred stood up and moved to get North some new clothes as well. Before he could, South stopped him. “I got it, Alfred,” she said holding a bundle which Alfred guessed was North’s clothes. 

“Are you sure, kiddo?”

South nodded, “Yeah I promise.” 

“Okay, if you say so,” he replied as he bent down to give her a hug. “Good night, South.”

“Hey, I wanna hug,” complained a voice from the bed. 

Alfred let out a chuckle as he released South and walked over. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can handle a hug right now.” North started to protest before Alfred leaned down and kissed her forehead. “That will have to do.” North smiled up at him. 

At the doorway, Alfred leaned against the frame as he turned back once more to look at the young personifications. South was helping North sit up so she could change her shirt. North’s bickering wasn’t making the process smoother, but it looked like neither minded. Eventually, they got the problem settled and they both got in their respective beds. This ro om used to be an old guest room that always remained ready for a guest that could never come. There used to be less toys and odd-and-ends gracing his floors. The halls used to be quieter and there used to be no holes in the walls. 

Now this room had two beds that were filled every night. Now he had to watch his step as he walked from one part of the house to another. Each room and hall no longer stays empty and, yes, he really needs to call a repairman or something in the morning. 

“Goodnight, girls,” Alfred said one last time, feeling strangely content.

“Goodnight, Alfred,” said South.

“G’night, Pa,” said North. Alfred startled and as he walked away he wondered why the happy feeling felt heavier than before.

* * *

 

Several days later**

Far too early for this

 

Everything settled as all things do. North got better and it wasn’t long before she and South were back at full speed. Unfortunately, this quickly led to a situation Alfred never thought he would have to be in. 

“Psst, Hey, old man.” a whispered voice spoke, followed by a small hand shaking his shoulder. A very groggy Alfred could not comprehend why he was awake before the sun was. “Hey, Alfred, come on.”

“North?” He asked. Sure enough, as his eyes focused he could make out the gray eyes that were suspiciously close to his face. “What’r you doin’ up this late? Early? What time is it?”

“It’s fine, I need to ask you something.”

“Now?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “You know how you said that we need permission?”

“Permission?” Alfred was not the fastest when he first woke up.

“For firearms in the house, please it’s important.”

Alfred groaned and turned onto his stomach on the mattress. “Just go to bed, North.”

The blanket rustled as she climbed on top of the bed and sat on top of a very tired Alfred. Alfred groaned again. “What do you want, you devil spawn?”

“Just say I have permission and I’ll let you sleep.” This was blackmail, Alfred thought. 

“Fine, permission granted.”

“Great, thanks old man, I’m gonna go give South a heart attack.” With that North quickly departed and Alfred let out a sigh. He readjusted the blankets and closed his eyes again. 

A few seconds passed.

“Wait--”

* * *

 

A Nice Calm Morning

 

It was a nice change to be able to hear gunfire and not have to be running to see if everything was alright. A deal ended up being struck where Alfred would take the girls outside for proper usage of firearms that was very far away from their home and the girls would no longer try and loophole around the rules. Despite the unneeded difficulties it took to reach this compromise, it was worth it to not have to worry about the structure of the house (the kids would be fine). North was taking a steady pace as she fired at the bottles lined up on the fence post. She went through the targets efficiently and quickly, as was her style. As the last bottle was broken, Alfred called out for the girls to switch places, nudging South to take her place as North walked back to them.

A curious thing happened as the blonde was about to relinquish the rifle fully into South’s waiting hands: North whispered something to her. It was a short conversation that seemed mostly one-sided, although South’s eyes briefly glanced back at him. South said something back sharply before hefting the gun away and taking her spot. North made her way back to him with a disgruntled expression.

The gun fired and Alfred blinked and felt his jaw drop in surprise. She missed. By a lot. He thought he heard a turkey’s screech way off in the trees somewhere, but he doubted that it was important. 

“Uh, South sweetie, you’re goal is to hit the bottles.”

South brisiled and snapped back, “I know that!”

“She’s not going to hit the marks, America,” North whispered to him, adjusting her hat.

“North, don’t be mean,” Alfred scolded.

“That’s not what I  _ mean _ \--.” Another shot fired. Another miss, although she did manage to damage a barrel ten feet away. North made a gesture trying to emphasize her point. Well...there may be something off about this.  _ Bam _ , and there goes another barrel. South was beginning to look more and more frustrated.

“Hey, kiddo, hold fire for a moment,” Alfred called out. Reluctantly, she lowered the gun, but stayed where she was. Alfred huffed. “South, I need you to come here, too.”

Slowly, she dragged her feet over to Alfred. “South--,” he started. 

“Oooooooh,” North interrupted.

“Watch it,” Alfred warned. “It appears...I mean I guess it seems that you’re having a bit of-- a-- trouble with, you know, and--”

“Just say it, “South snapped.

Alfred crossed his arms. Firmly he said, “South, why can’t you hit the target?”

She stayed quiet. The blonde by his side was practically vibrating as she watched on. Alfred put a hand on her shoulder in hopes that it would settle her. 

It didn’t.

“Oh come ooon, if you don’t tell him I will.”

South bristled, “You promised!”

“Then do it,” she shot back. 

South turned towards Alfred and mumbled something. Naturally, he didn’t catch it. “What was that?”

“I SAID I CAN’T SEE THE TARGET!”

It was silent, in a slow movement Alfred raised his hand in front of the girl’s face holding two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Both girls gave him a disbelieving stare.

South batted his hand away, “I can see you just fine. It’s the stuff over yonder--” she made a wave motion with her hand, “--that I can’t.”

It made sense when Alfred thought about it. He wore glasses, his glasses were Texas, Texas was in the South. Really, he should’ve been more surprised if she didn’t need glasses.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The questioned caused South to falter. “I just-- I didn’t see-- it’s none of your business!”

Alfred crouched down so they were closer to eye level. “I disagree, South there’s nothing wrong with wearing glasses, I mean look at me.”

“She thought it made her vulnerable,” piped North.

“North!”

“--and that you wouldn’t appreciate her ‘copying’ you,” she continued before turning to her sister. “Well, sometimes you just need to be blunt to solve something. In all fairness I waited until you at least started the conversation.”

South looked away. America didn’t quite know how to feel about this, whether to be saddened or honored that the kid thought this way. In the end, he was mostly relieved that it was a simple fix. 

He took off his glasses and held them out to the brunette. “Try them,” he said simply.

She looked at the glasses as if they were going to bite her. Hesitantly, her hand grasped the silver frames. Her dark head tilted down as she put them on her face. As she looked up a small “awww” was heard from North, which upon Alfred softly tapped the back of her head for.

He leaned closer to South’s face, putting on a serious expression. He nodded sharply before saying, “I have to say, I didn’t think it was possible. South, I think you look better in those than I do. What do you think, North?” 

North stepped into her sister’s space, her hands reached out and placed on South’s freckled cheeks, turning her face this way and that as if getting a better angle. “Hmmm, to be fair, America, you didn’t look all that great to begin with.” 

“Hey, watch it--”

“But yes, it suits you very well, sister.”

A fair blush now rested on the small girl’s face. If her smile was a little wobbly and her eyes a little glassy, well Alfred wasn’t one to judge. But there was no time to linger. With a quick motion, the young nation hooked North around the knees and put her in a fireman carry. Before South could react, he then lifted her up to where she could wrap her arms around his neck while he held her under her butt. The outcry was immediate.

“Alfred, why am I being held like a potato sack!”

“Hahaha--”

“South, it’s not funny! I swear--”

“Shooting practice is done for the day girls,” Alfred cut in as he began making his way back to the house, “I think it’s time I wrote to an old friend.”

“But why now?” South asked calmly while her sister started hitting America on the back, yelling something or another.

“Because, kiddo,” he said as he re-adjusted his hold on the girls, “she is going to help us find a market so we can get you a pair of glasses of your own.”

That blush made a second appearance and Alfred felt the arms around his neck tighten and her face rest in the crook of his neck. So, with that, Alfred entered their home with one of his kids held on his hips with a content smile, and another that he may or may not of jostled a little bit on the walk complaining of a head rush. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The United states wasn’t the biggest fan of monarchies at this time, or ever, for obvious reasons  
> **since the kids are still personifications, they heal a lot quicker than normal
> 
> well that was fun, don't you think?  
> Let us know what you thought: was the rule like you expected? Do you want to see more of the girls for the final North and South or do you want to see the other kids beginnings or even the rules? 
> 
> Once again, thank you everyone for your kudos, comments, or even just reading it <3

**Author's Note:**

> So, please let us know what you thought! The first official chapter will be the origins of Beatrix and Amelia Jones (AkA: the South and North and the beginning of the Civil War).
> 
> If anyone's interested in giving us prompts or ideas, feel free to send us suggestions!
> 
> Update schedule may be pretty hectic as we are both busy with school and both of us are working on separate fanfics. Please bear with us!


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